


The Mountains Talk Back

by odietamo53



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Ejaculation, M/M, Multi, Squirting, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odietamo53/pseuds/odietamo53
Summary: Feyre thinks she's alone and calls to the mountains for help. The response she receives is like nothing she ever could have guessed.
Relationships: Feyre Acheron/Cassian, Feyre Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Azriel/Cassian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123





	The Mountains Talk Back

**Author's Note:**

> My first ACoTaR fic. I've been loooooong out of practice, but this fandom has me hooked. This fic is pure indulgence for me and my need to see Feyre so well loved by all her Illyrians. 
> 
> Light angst and feelings in the beginning- set a few nights after Feyre comes to the night court after breaking down at spring and being saved by Morrigan.

She’s still reeling, unsteady on her shaky legs as she stumbles across the room to take big gulps of cool air. The balcony is large enough for her to sprawl across the cold marble and hang her head pathetically between the rails, vomiting into the chasm looming below. The breeze is cool against her sweat slick forehead and she thinks maybe she could get used to spilling her stomach open air style, no stench to burn her nose and no cleaning the next morning required. 

Feyre closes her eyes and lets a sob rip from her throat. She was tired, so very tired but sleep was already slipping from her tenuous grasp tonight. This mountain top manor felt foreign, her new home so suddenly she was still reeling. Swept from the Spring Court when she needed to be saved most, liberated from a slow, crushing death she hadn’t been willing to fully admit to herself. For the first time that night she was actually thankful Rhysand had told her he’d be away overnight, that he’d be back in the morning and she should rest. But rest was so far out of her reach that she stomped her feet against the silver flecked marble like a small child. Her nerves were wound tight, stomach churning and fingers twisting together in an attempt to hold onto something, anything. 

“Fuck.” She breathes the word in a hard punch out, likes the way it takes something small and toxic with it. “FUCK!” Feyre sits up, gripping the railing between her hands and screaming into the mountainous abyss. It swallowed her words and darkness, expansive and willing to shoulder whatever burdens she could fling into it. She can talk to it, the inky black carrying her words, secrets far away from her. 

“I need help,” she whispers into the night, sliding forward to slot her legs comfortably between the banister rails, safely dangling over the balcony edge while she drops words only she can hear. “It took so much to ask for help this time, I don’t think I can do it again.” A harsh, barking laugh escapes her throat, like she’s made a mad observation and it’s sending her a little over some kind of razor sharp edge. “I need help, I fucking need help.” Her words are loud and begin to ring between the peaks. “HELP ME!” Her lungs flatten with the force of the words, screaming out a nightmare. It echoes back to her once, twice, and she listens satisfied as it bounces further from her with each passing second. 

The hands snatch her back so fast she’s left clutching at air. Gravity sends her spinning around as she’s placed back on her feet and she brings a hand up, slapping it down with a crack before her eyes can catch up with her body. 

“What’s wrong!” The question likely came out harsher than it was meant to if the bright red handprint and wide eyes Cassian is now sporting are any indication. His eyes are roaming her from head to toe, not pausing over her barely concealed body in the gauzy fabric, but scanning, assessing from injuries. His hands flex at his sides like he wants to pat her down, find whatever must have been making her scream. 

And she realizes of course Rhysand did not leave her here alone. While he had told her himself and Morrigan would be gone overnight, she hadn’t thought to ask about others, of course Cassian and Azriel would be here, his constant companions. 

Her chest heaves with the rush of adrenaline and she reaches up to slap him again, fear and shock pushing her to lash out but he knocks the hand away easily, still assessing for danger. “What are you doing in here? I didn’t call you!” She’s settled for pummeling her small fists into his chest. The action seems to surprise him so much he lets her. 

“You called for help.” His voice shifts from indignant to soft in four words, eyes flashing with some kind of revelation. She’s kept up the shoving and punching at his chest, emotions roiling through her so suddenly and she’s been running so hard from this cruel, physical side of herself that she finally falls into it and lets herself go. She is done being pushed without permission, grabbed without consent, ordered to do as someone else says as soon as they say it. A particularly rough shove, so different from what she could have accomplished in her human body, elicits a grunt from Cassian and he snatches up her hands to slow the barrage, letting go as soon as she pauses. 

Her skin is itchy and tight. She can’t quite catch her breath, her legs are threatening to give out, and she wants to scream. Wants someone to make her scream. 

Feyre presses forward into his chest, no longer hitting, but insistent. Cassian is staring down at her hard, questioning, so she tilts her face up and presses her lips to his. 

“Feyre.” His voice is low. She just reaches up and twines her fingers into the long hairs hanging loose at the nape of his neck, pulls him down to her parting lips. 

The door bangs against the wall as another body strides in, mere feet from them before momentum lets it pull to a stop. Azriel looks as harried as Cassian had, clearly responding to the same plea she’d flung into the night. He’s turning almost before he’s stopped, muttering “sorry,” as he’s taken in their embrace and moves to leave. 

Feyre’s throat constricts and she croaks out, “wait. Please.” Cassian’s fingers tighten against where they’ve come to rest on her arms and she can see Azriel hesitate only slightly on his way out. Her whole body aches for something, something and she can feel it slipping away so she says it again and again, “please, please, please, please.” The words drop like stones, clanging against her chest and her knees are buckling, eyes closed she says it again, “please, please, please.” 

A hand grips her chin and soft lips press to hers. New hands sweep through her hair, draw her from Cassian’s arms and spirit her to the bed where she sinks back into the mattress and groans. 

“Look at me.” The shadow singer’s voice sends an ache to her core and she tries to wrap herself around him, cracks her eyes and nearly chokes on his intense gaze. There’s understanding there, sadness and a willingness to give, if she wants to take, he will give. 

Feyre tugs at his loose tunic, draws it off him so she can touch his marred skin, run her fingers over scars and tattoos while she stretches her other hand out blindly, seeking. And Cassian takes it, comes to sit beside her on the soft bed, wiping back the hair clinging to her forehead. “He’ll take care of you,” Cassian murmurs, bends down and presses their lips together softly, “we both will.”

Her hips lift as Azriel pushes the hem of her nightgown up, skimming his fingers down her thighs, kneading the taut muscles as his lips dip and brush her curls. It’s sensuous and everything in her clenches as he spreads her legs to fit his broad shoulders and he licks a hot stripe up her. A gasp punches out of her and Cassian catches it on his tongue, pressing a thumb to her jaw so she’ll open for him. 

She knows without asking that they will follow her every command. And she knows she doesn’t want them to. No more orders. No more telling anyone what they should, or could, or have to do. She doesn’t want to take orders and she’s not going to give them. So she opts for the only safe word she can think of, her mantra for the night, not a sign of weakness or pleading, but of confidence and want. “Please,” she moans, hands scrabbling for Azriel’s hair as she presses herself into Cassian’s soft hand at her throat. His fingers flex and she gasps. 

Azriel is reading her, like his shadows can commune with the darkness lurking in her gut, so he gives in, gathers her taste on his tongue and circles her aching clit. She wants to say, “more”, and “harder,” and “faster,” but she won’t break her own unspoken rule. So she presses her hips down, neck tense as her back arches and rides his clever dancing tongue, babbling against the lips pressed to hers when Azriel slips two fingers into her heat and curls them. He beckons the orgasm from her pliant body, humming against her core as he sucks, urging it to take her. 

Feyre is scrambling against Cassian now, head pillowed on his muscular thighs and she can’t touch enough of him. Her finger tips are tingling with a need to feel his hot skin while the shadow singer devours her whole. Cassian’s dark hair tangles around his head in a messy halo as he hastily pulls off his tunic, lowering himself to her side where she can smooth her palms over his hard chest while he nips a line down her neck. 

Her body is screaming for release. So tense and overwrought she almost sobs with need. She needs more but she won’t ask. She needs more but she won’t order. She needs more and a tear escapes from her wild, wet eyes and Azriel understands. He throws her legs over his shoulders, braces a hand to her lower back, and lifts, crawling them up the bed until her head touches the headboard and she practically bent in half, his lips never leaving her. “Perfect,” Azriel murmurs against her wetness as three fingers press deep into her and he moves them in a quick twisting motion, tongue alternating flicking and pressed, coaxing her closer, so much closer. Then Cassian is there, mouth open against her own and their tongues tangle. He wraps fingers in her fanned out hair so they don’t lose contact as Azriel’s fingers pump into her impossibly hard. Her hands come up to brace herself on the headboard, pushing into him so her body doesn’t slide back against the wood and meeting his rolling motions. There’s an edge of pain to the harsh movements and her body sings. Release crashes over her and she screams as a clear stream of liquid covers Azriel’s chin and hand and she doesn’t have time to marvel at the sensation before Cassian is there. 

His muscular frame fills the space between her splayed legs and he fumbles desperately at the clasp on his trousers as she writhes wet and urgent before him. Feyre murmurs a, “please,” and he growls low before ripping the fabric around the clasp and shoving the material down. His cock juts out hard and curved up, resting against her stomach as he leans forward and captures her lips in a dirty kiss. Their lips barely touch as tongues tangles together, breathing in each other’s harsh pants. 

Cassian’s hips pull back and she feels the head of his cock tease her aching entrance. She nips the tip of his tongue with her teeth as punishment and he immediately presses into her, his cocky chuckle lost to the breathy gasp leaking form his mouth. He moves in long, rolling strokes, sitting up so she can take in the tanned, scarred chest as he uses her hips to pull her down into him. 

Feyre grasps at her breasts, bare as her nightgown bunches beneath her arms, but Azriel’s hands push hers away and he rolls her hard nipples between talented fingers. Cassian presses open mouthed kisses to the backs of her knees, whimpering at the sight of Feyre’s heat flushed cheeks while Azriel licks across her full, pale chest. 

“Please,” she begs. The word now seen for what it truly was, a plead to take and give, anything, anything. 

His arms wrap around her middle and Cassian sits back on his heels, bringing her up so she’s seated in his lap and he’s reaching every deep spot inside of her. Feyre moans, head thrown back to rest on Azriel’s shoulder, who has come up behind her to press against her back. She could feel his body, devoid of clothing, cock grinding against her back so big, so thick and heavy. 

She was burning alive. Anticipation made her gasp, wanting to reach back and wrap her hand around him, but unable to let go of Cassian’s straining muscles as he snapped his hips up into her, grinding and dirty, ripping moans from her on every exhale. She wanted to live here on Cassian’s lap, feel his cock filling her for eternity, wanted to clench around Azriel’s length and know just how he liked to move his hips. She wanted them both, wanted them all, wanted. 

Azriel’s face appeared over her shoulder, leaning in to flick his tongue against Cassian’s lips and he let him in. Cauldron he let him in and they were kissing, hot and open and Feyre swore she could feel Cassian grow even harder inside of her, slick and pulsing against her walls. She cried out as her body clenched, ravaged, and she murmured incoherent words of pleasure while threading her hands through both of their dark hair and watching them bite and lick and press their lips together until Cassian cried out, warmth spreading through her and his seed coated her inside. 

Cassian pressed her back, far enough to slip out of her and she didn’t have time to gasp at the loss before she was straddling Azriel’s lap, back to his chest as he pushed into her, so easy with Cassian’s release to slick the way. Her world tilted on its axis, mind barely comprehending the pass off as she traded one dick for another. And Cassian whispered encouragement in her ear, told her how beautiful she looked taking all of Az’s big, thick cock, how he could see his own release leaking from her and when he suggested tasting it she moaned brokenly, nails digging in where she braced herself on his shoulders. His eyes twinkled at that and he drew back for a moment to observe. 

Feyre was seated in Azriel’s lap, the opposite to her position with Cassian, back pressed to his chest and breasts on display as her back arched with Azriel’s grip on her hips, tilting them so he could reach deep. And he lifted her, until just the head of his cock was wrapped in her warmth before letting gravity bring her back down, over and over, letting her feel his whole length on each long, brutal stroke. Her entire body trembled and she reached her hand back out to Cassian, ready to beg for his touch. 

But Cassian ducks down, before she can grab at him, and his mouth finds where she’s stretched taunt around Azriel’s length. His tongue brushes them both as Azriel is fucking into her hard enough his arms are wrapped tight around her middle and his back hunches slightly over her so his hips can force out a relentless rhythm. Feyre can do nothing but hold on, sweat slick hands fisted in Azriel’s loose temple length hair. 

Cassian brushes fingers along either side of her folds, marveling and grinning up at her as she crumbles around them. “Do you think,” he says quietly, barely audible over this harsh slapping of skin, “that Az, that we, can make you squirt one last time?” And he descends, fingers stroking her slick folds while Azriel pumps into her and scrapes teeth down her sensitive neck, Cassian begins flicking his tongue over her clit ceaseless and Feyre screams. 

Her whole body goes tight and loose at the same time. She clenches so hard around Azriel that he comes with a harsh, shaky breath out, pressing her hips hard into his, bearing down with bruising force as he pulses and Cassian groans. The vibration against her clit tips her, reeling, off a ledge and her body lets go. Her release is hard and sudden, a jet of clear fluid that coats Cassian’s chest, dripping from his tanned skin. It’s obscene and he laugh and sits up, pressing a trembling kiss to Feyre’s slack lips where she tastes herself and what must be Cassian’s own release gathered directly from Azriel’s cock as he moved in her. 

Her heart threatens to pound out of her chest and she collapses against Azriel, his soft, stroking fingers and murmured words soothing her through the aftershocks while Cassian whisks the rumbled wet sheet off the bed he’d had the forethought to place below himself before coaxing the explosive orgasm from her, and climbs back in to smooth hands down her sides and they all simply breathe.   
Feyre’s high abates. Her body is still thrumming with pleasure and wonder and joy and she’s so satisfied she nestles back and sighs. Azriel begins to withdraw, still not softened inside of her and she grabs his hips with feeble fingers. “No,” she croaks out, the one command she deigns to allow the night. He understands and seats himself back inside of her, coaxing her close and shifting his legs slowly, so he can tip them onto their sides and they can lay back onto the destroyed bed. 

Cassian quickly lays on his back against her front, positioned so Feyre can pillow her head on his chest. Azriel crowds in closer. His body presses close enough to leave no space between them, hips rolling once, gently, to keep his softening cock nestled in her warmth, and his arm reaches over her side so his fingers can tangle with Cassian’s. 

Her eyes don’t attempt to bore into the darkness around her as the minutes drift by. The shadows cocooning them a comforting presence for the first time since she’d been trapped under the mountain. And the silence, there is none. Two strong heartbeats thump gently in her ears, on either side of her, and she knows she’s safe. Knows she can get through this night. Maybe not the next, or the one after that, but this one. She would be okay.


End file.
